Won't You Smile for Me Tonight
by Silver Matter
Summary: IchiRuki: Between the quiet moments of happiness exist moments of too raw reality. Marriage to Ichigo is much more complex than Rukia expected, and his Hollow isn't making it any easier. Of love, family, and finding happiness with and within each other.
1. Part 1

_A/N: I actually had this published in my livejournal last year, but my account went awry and was ultimately deleted. I wanted this up here because it seems that regardless of what happens in my life, this account will stay constant and stable. : ) _

_To anyone reading this who hasn't read it before, I hope you enjoy it! This fic is incredibly dear to me for many reasons: it's the last thing I've written in years, it's basically a love letter from me to IchiRuki, and every time I see this document in my Stories folder, I'm reminded of why I will never let these two go, and why in my heart, they won't let each other go._

* * *

><p><strong>Won't You Smile for Me Tonight<strong>

****Part 1****

* * *

><p>They fight together, they hurt together, they smile together.<p>

It's a relationship that doesn't change once they start going out.

Rukia thinks about this as she and Ichigo walk down the street. His hands are stuffed in his jacket pockets, his lips curved into the barest of smiles as he watches her pop orange candies in her mouth. He has always watched her, whether it be with concern or exasperation, amusement or fondness.

It's a realization that causes her to grin. At this moment she's happy, genuinely and truly, happy. She thinks there might actually be a bounce on her step but no, that's ridiculous, Kuchiki Rukia doesn't do bouncing steps.

Except apparently she does because Ichigo quirks an eyebrow as their eyes meet and, in that completely flippant, patronizing, sarcastic way of his, says, "What's got you acting like we're going to see a zoo full of rabbits? You're _skipping_."

And just like that, Rukia's expression morphs into a scowl.

"Don't act like a smartass with me. I know all about your bullshit, passive-aggressive tendencies." She smirks. "Though, if this was a pathetic attempt at reverse psychology like that time with the hat, you only had to ask, Ichigo. I'd love to go to a petting zoo!"

Ichigo rolls his eyes.

"How do you even know about the hat?"

"Renji told me," says Rukia, grinning. "And Ichigo, if you failed at reverse psychology with Renji, you know what that means, right? It means you fail. At life."

Ichigo glares at her immediately responding with, "Yeah, well, out of the two of us, I'm not the one who's dead."

A moment of silence, and then Rukia bursts into laughter.

"That was unexpectedly awesome," she says, reaching up and putting a candy in his mouth as a reward for his brilliance. Ichigo's lips brush against the tips of her fingers and oh, Rukia thinks, a slow smile unravelling across her face. Her heart starts to beat just that much faster because this, this is a change. "The score's now, Ichigo: one, Rukia: three hundred and fifty-seven."

"You forgot the negative before your number," he says, deciding to show off how truly obnoxious he is by ruffling her hair, and laughing as she swats away his hand, "and about a million zeroes after mine."

Rukia gives him a flat look.

They somehow manage to keep bickering almost all the way to the movie theatre. Rukia honestly can't remember what they talked about: all she recollects is her inability to suppress her laughter, the look in Ichigo's eyes when he looks at her and smiles, and how shockingly easy it is to just _be_.

As they near the entrance, Rukia says something like, "Don't cheap out on me – I still want that biggest order of popcorn," and Ichigo reaches for her hand.

Rukia glances at the fingers around her wrist and stops.

"Ichigo?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

Though it's unexpected when Ichigo puts the flat palm of his hand on top of her head to smooth down the mess her hair has become (partly his fault for ruffling it, but mostly it was the fierce summer wind), it's not unwelcome. It's not even an out of character gesture: because if there's one person who Rukia can say she _knows_to the depths of their soul (and this she means both literally and not), it's Ichigo; and despite the calluses on his fingers, there's a gentleness to his actions that comes from the very core of him.

It's her awareness of him that makes Rukia feel the feathery brush of every strand of hair against her cheek that he pushes out of the way and tucks behind her ear. An action that is comfortable and intimate, all at once.

"There," says Ichigo, his hands going back inside his pockets. "Now you don't look like an escapee from the psychiatric ward of the hospital. Can't be seen in public with a lunatic, after all."

Rukia punches him for that, and he kicks her absently in return. But as they enter the dark room with the numerous seats and sticky floors, Rukia weaves their fingers together and drags him to the top row.

"You know what people do back there," she says, smirking at him. And if there's a spark of mischief in her voice, she can't really help it.

"You're pretty racy for a Soul Society aristocrat," says Ichigo, and Rukia hears the amusement in his voice.

"You know it," she says. "Not many others would give up perfectly awesome seats in the middle to have the best place to throw popcorn from."

Ichigo laughs.

They end up not throwing the popcorn because as fun as it is to say it, it's a pretty douchey thing to do. They watch the movie instead, and during the boring parts with the politicians, Ichigo runs his hand through her hair and Rukia places hers on his shoulder and they kiss and kiss and kiss. It's a little breathless and a little exciting and for the life of her, Rukia can't stop smiling.

* * *

><p>People may not be able to tell from first glance – Rukia certainly hadn't – because he tends to naturally project the image of a delinquent, but Ichigo's a family man through and through. He's old-fashioned in these aspects, the way he puts his sisters and father before himself and how he physically stops himself when they're kissing and his hands start to drift under her shirt.<p>

They get married a little sooner than what others would expect, but that's okay. Rukia has more than just a few years under her belt, Ichigo has the sense of responsibility greater than most forty year olds, and both of them know the other as well as – if not better than – their own zanpakutous. They decide to have the wedding in the living world, because though their lives are now in Soul Society – with both of them high in the ranks of the thirteen divisions – they have friends and family who won't be able to go there.

"Is this a big deal?" Ichigo asks her a few days before the ceremony. They're staring at the ceiling, lying flat on their backs on a bed, in one of the many wings of the Kuchiki Manor compound that they'll move into after the wedding.

(Because saving souls has always been Kurosaki Ichigo's destiny, and Rukia's home is here, in this spiritual land with her brother and Renji).

Rukia ponders Ichigo's question as she turns her head to look at him. His eyes focused on something nonexistent, eyebrows drawn together in thought. "What do you mean?"

"From the moment you jumped in through my window," he says, and then he pauses. "Okay, maybe not _right _then because I was pretty sure you were some crazy burglar chick–" Rukia rolls her eyes and Ichigo's mouth softens into a grin. "But I've known for a long time now that you were going to be a part of my life. For as long as we were both around, I knew that you'd be there."

Rukia reaches for his hands and twines their fingers together, shifting until she's close enough to rest her chin on his shoulder.

It's a shockingly blunt thing to say, but that's Ichigo. It's still a little overwhelming, sometimes, those moments when she realizes that he feels something great for her, something beyond love and friendship and he's never hesitant in showing it. Rukia hopes that she expresses herself half as eloquently as he does – because Ichigo may not have the most sophisticated words, but whatever it is that he says, the way he touches her cheeks and looks at her with fondness and affection and loyalty–

Every time he yells at her for being reckless, every time he rolls his eyes and buys her a stuffed rabbit, every time he absently reaches for her hands as they walk down the street – Rukia feels more than whatever can be portrayed by a hundred thousand sonnets.

"I'll always be here," she says, tone frank but voice quiet. "That is not an issue."

Ichigo laughs a little.

"No, it's really not, is it?"

Even after all this time, even with _Ichigo_, it's hard for Rukia to speak freely of her emotions. It's something that leaves her a little too vulnerable, and there is insecurity somewhere inside her that takes away the strength she has in all other situations.

But this is the man she wants to spend the rest of her days with. And, as Rukia knows all too well, the rest of her days is something close to forever. And she has enough faith in Ichigo to know that if there are some parts of her she isn't strong enough to defend, he'll be there to take care of it.

"I want you around for as long as I can," she says, and it's a little inelegant, but she thinks that Ichigo understands when he tilts his head and looks at her with those dark eyes. "Even if we didn't have this – I can't imagine a single reality where we _didn't_ end up here at one point – I'd still want you, with me, in some way."

She pauses a bit, averts her eyes and focuses on a loose green thread on his sweater.

"I want everything," she says, and feels her confidence solidifying within her when he squeezes her hand. "I want everything with you, and if this wedding is part of this everything–"

She stops.

"I don't know if that's a big deal or not," she says. "It's what you want it to be."

Ichigo is silent for a moment.

"I think that this–" he finally says, gesturing the room, the house, their joined hands, "_this_ is the big deal. And I guess that makes the wedding a big deal too, huh?"

Rukia laughs.

"If Renji finds out we talk like this," she tells him, "we'll never live it down."

And it's only because that she's looking straight into Ichigo's eyes that she notices the warm brown of his irises momentarily flash white, perhaps reflecting the light. But it is gone as quickly as it came and all she sees is Ichigo, looking back at her.

"Whatever." His grin is definitely cocky. "I can still kick his ass."

Rukia smiles a smile that's more of a smirk and gets off from the bed, stretching her arms above her head. "I know exactly where you're looking, Ichigo. And you better stop that before the wedding. Nii-sama will be there and I don't think he'll take to that very kindly."

Ichigo groans.

"Does he _have_ to come?"

"Excuse me?" Rukia looks at him in disbelief. "He's my _brother_, you imbecile. He owns this house. You're lucky he thinks you're more than scum at the bottom of his shoe. One word against it and I'm guaranteeing you that the wedding wouldn't be happening."

"God, you have such a brother complex," says Ichigo, throwing her that infuriatingly superior smirk. "It's gotten beyond the point of being ridiculous."

Rukia takes this opportunity to slam her foot down on his toes, and barely manages to avoid the alarm clock that he throws at her head. It's amazing how quickly their conversation deteriorated to these juvenile actions, but the warm, full feeling inside her from Ichigo's words doesn't fade.

They walk out of the traditional, fully furnished house hand in hand, with Ichigo saying, "Are you kidding me, I would sooner mess a car up with a _sledge hammer _than let you drive it."

* * *

><p>The ceremony is wonderful, small and unobtrusive, only fifty guests in attendance in a quiet park at the edge of town. It's beside a lake, and Rukia has a garland of flowers in her hair, placed like a crown.<p>

"I knew this would happen years ago," Renji tells her, grinning as he engulfs her in his arms. Rukia can't suppress her delight, and with her head on her best friend's chest, she sees Ichigo look up at the sound of her laughter, his lips pulled into a trace of a smile.

Byakuya is there as well, sitting on a bench overlooking the lake, quietly conversing with Yoruichi. They must sense that she's coming because while Rukia's still a few feet away, Yoruichi gracefully leaves to join the rest of the party where the small dining tables have been set up.

"It is very beautiful here," says Byakuya when Rukia sits down beside him, careful to keep her kimono from touching the dirty ground. "There is life that is not often found in Soul Society."

"One of the reasons we chose this place," says Rukia, smiling. There are white flowers here – the same ones that decorate her hair – natural to this part of Japan. They sway with the summer breeze. "I am thankful you made this trip here, nii-sama."

"Of course," he says. "Should you have chosen to have this ceremony elsewhere, I would have been present as well."

With anyone else, Rukia would feel insurmountable joy. But around Byakuya, Rukia has always been calm and aware, somehow more articulate. "I am thankful for that, too."

"Do not be," he says, and tilts his head the slightest bit so that their eyes meet. His face is characteristically impassive, but the edges of his eyes are soft as they look at her. Rukia believes that inside his mind, Byakuya is smiling. "It is I that is grateful that you have chosen to include me in such a momentous day in your life. It is never a chore for me to see you."

There was once a time when these words would have meant the world to Rukia. Now, it perhaps means more, because she knows that she has Byakuya's approval, something she has been striving to achieve for so long. She knows that she always had it. But more importantly, she now knows that she has his _love_, which is infinitely more important.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, a silence that Rukia only periodically breaks to inquire about his health and news about the Kuchiki clan.

"Rukia," says Byakuya after some time, when they both feel Ichigo's spiritual energy approaching them. He looks a little distant, gaze drifting towards the bright white clouds in the sky as he continues, "I hope that you are aware that I am exceedingly happy for you both."

"I know," Rukia replies immediately. "You do not have to say such things, nii-sama–"

"I wish to say it," says Byakuya. He looks almost amused by her reaction, if the quirked eyebrow on the otherwise composed face is any indication. Rukia feels that the embarrassment coursing through her right now will only disappear the day she stops caring about Byakuya's opinion of her. Which is to say, _never_. "Kurosaki Ichigo is a good man. He is not someone who will do you wrong."

Rukia's smile is soft.

"I know."

"Do not let him know that I have said this."

She laughs. "It's a promise."

Ichigo walks over a few moments later, hands stuffed into the sleeves of his wedding kimono. The two of them don't often say things like, "You're beautiful" or "You're sexy" or "You're gorgeous," but at that moment, standing in the grass with such a peaceful look on his face, Rukia doesn't think she has ever seen someone so handsome.

"There you two are," he says, casually striding towards them. "Renji and the old man are trying to drink the other under the table. Not a pretty sight. So of course I have to bring Rukia to see it."

Rukia releases a long-suffering breath and stands up.

"Hey, Byakuya," says Ichigo easily. His default expression, as Rukia has come to know, is either a cocky smirk or a brooding scowl, and right now it's definitely the former. "Enjoying the party?"

"At the moment it is adequate," replies Byakuya, looking at Ichigo coolly. "Though I'm certain it'll be more enjoyable once you leave the vicinity."

Ichigo laughs.

"You heard him," says Rukia. It's amazing, she thinks, how relaxed Byakuya is right then. Making _jokes_, though his expression remains neutral. "Come, Ichigo. You being here is ruining nii-sama's experience."

"Come back to the main area after you're done thinking about whatever the hell it is you think about," Ichigo calls back as Rukia drags him back to the rest of the guests. Byakuya goes back to staring at the sky and the pond and the white flowers that surround it. "There's cake! We ordered chocolate cuz we know you love–"

"Stop acting like a delinquent," hisses Rukia, and Ichigo gives her a look that says, _seriously, **seriously**, am I hearing this from **you**?_ "Now come, I hope you made sure that no one touched my plate."

"You mean you didn't eat yet?" Ichigo glares at her, but its more disappointment than anything else. "Rukia. If what I'm hearing from the others is true, you didn't eat all _day_."

"Which is why I wanted to eat _now_," she snaps before softening because she wouldn't love Ichigo half as much as she did if he wasn't like this. "Let's just go now, hmm? We can ditch this joint if you want, grab a burger. I think I saw a restaurant on the drive here."

Rukia grins and Ichigo rolls his eyes, the frown between his brows disappearing.

"Nah," he says, reaching forward to fix the flowers on her hair. Rukia's certain that it looks ridiculous, but she doesn't remove it. "This party'll blow if we leave."

* * *

><p>They are now Kurosaki Ichigo and Rukia, and they are husband and wife.<p>

There's something about the title that strikes a romantic bone in Rukia's body. Being married is such a bold statement to each other, a way of bringing all the unspoken trust and faith into an undeniable conclusion. It's like saying, "I think, no, I _want_ this thing to last forever and damn if I don't do everything to make sure it does," without actually having the words spoken out loud.

Being husband and wife mean that they love each other unconditionally, that they make up for each other's faults. And though this is something that would probably be true even if they never stepped in this direction, they are now _family _and that's a bond that goes beyond romance.

They've always been so much more than just that: more than friends, more than lovers, more than a combination of the two. Rukia thinks that the best analogy would be the partner to her _soul_, but even she's aware of how stupid that sounds.

(But it doesn't stop her from thinking its true).

Everything is perfect at this moment, thinks Rukia as she watches Ichigo watch her, as she sees his eyes rake over her with the same single minded focus that he gives towards everything in his life.

Rukia takes step after step until she's standing right in front of him. He doesn't look away from her as one of his hands reaches for hers while the other pushes her hair away from her face. His thumb sweeps across her right cheekbone.

A shiver runs through Rukia's body as she looks at him – looks at Ichigo, looks at her _husband_– and they both reach towards each other. Their kiss starts off soft, slow, her hands in his hair and his at the back of her neck. But then she starts edging them towards the bed, and he lowers her onto it, and then her fingers are pulling at his shirt and his hand is sliding the thin strap of her nightgown past the slope of her shoulder.

It's the first time they sleep together, and though it's a fleeting romantic fancy, at one moment when Ichigo is pressing kisses on her stomach and pulling on their entangled fingers, Rukia thinks she'll remember every detail of this night for the rest of her life.

She wakes up the next day to the feel of sunlight on her face. Her body is relaxed, wrapped up in sheets and to her right is Ichigo, still sleeping with his head resting against a folded arm.

Rukia smiles a little in reminiscence, wondering how a Rukongai street child such as herself came to this place. It was a series of such impossibly specific steps: meeting Renji, going to the Academy, being adopted into Byakuya's care, slipping in through the window of Ichigo's room...

Ichigo is stirring into consciousness. "Hey," says Rukia, laying her hand on Ichigo's cheek. "Wake your ass up and say hello to Mrs. Kurosaki."

There's a sleepy groan before Ichigo blinks once, twice, eyes slowly opening. His gaze is unfocused until it lands on her, and a drowsy smile unfolds on his face.

"Hey," he says, hand reaching up to cover Rukia's. Ichigo's hand is hot to the touch, contrasting the coolness of the room and Rukia feels goose bumps erupting on her skin.

Rukia smiles at him, sees his eyes travel down to her mouth. For an instant, Ichigo's eyes catch in the light to make it flash white, but it's gone as quickly as it came. All that's left is Ichigo, who leans forward and kisses her lips.

"You'll fit right into the family," he jokes. He's smirking a little, but there's something fond about it. "It'll be like you've been living with us for years."

"Hilarious," replies Rukia, voice deadpan.

Ichigo smirks, unrepentant, and Rukia can see the sleep disappearing from his gaze. He's always been the type who is either awake or asleep, never in between for too long.

"So, when's the formal introduction thing to the rest of the Kuchikis?" he asks. "Do we have to have another ceremony there?"

"Yeah. Nii-sama's very forcefully advocating my place in the clan. And the elders might not like it – might not like _me_– even after all this time, but I am their family. Officially, at least, if not by blood. So they're being very serious about upholding their traditions."

She reaches for his left hand, which holds the smooth, unremarkable silver ring. "And now you're family too."

There's something quiet about the way Ichigo smiles at that, and it makes it all the more beautiful.

"So how long d'you think we have before we start killing each other?" he asks. "Y'know, being married and all, we've got to consider these things."

"If I haven't strangled you to death after all this time," says Rukia, "I don't think we have to worry about that."

"Huh," says Ichigo. "Can't say the same about myself."

Rukia scowls and kicks him to the floor.

"Jackass," she says, and barely manages to stifle a yelp as Ichigo pulls on the sheets and has her collapsing off the bed and on top of him.

"Spousal abuse," he informs her, "is not cool."

Rukia blinks at him in disbelief before breaking off into loud, full hearted laughter. They laugh and bicker and make love on the floor and almost end up being late to the Kuchiki clan ceremony.

* * *

><p>They're so in tune to each other's presence that there is no difficulty at all settling into a life together. Ichigo is in a different division than her, adjusting to a life away from his family and friends in the living world surprisingly well. There's still a lot of yelling and a lot of making out, but that's only to be expected.<p>

Days and months and perhaps even years pass like this; it's hard to discern time in the world of the dead. They have many disagreements, sometimes about small things such as who didn't do that particular chore, but often about more serious matters, such as their views on the traditions of Soul Society, where to raise their family in the future, whether they should even _start_a family in the future.

But they're both happy. Rukia feels this every day, when she wakes up to the streams of sunlight seeping through the window, sharing the same bed and blankets as Ichigo. She thinks it means something that no matter the words screamed and feelings harmed, they never go to sleep with anger in their hearts.

Which is why it's hard to accept when everything falls apart.

It's not a series of events that steadily deteriorate. It's just one day, Rukia comes into the kitchen in a sleeping yukata and her hair pushed up into a knot at the back of her head. Ichigo's already there, making tea while reading some report or another. She grins at him when he glances up from his papers to look at her, and it looks like he's about to smile back same when–

When Ichigo _changes_.

His eyes turn white.

"Ichigo?" asks Rukia uncertainly, mouth pulling into a frown. She takes an uncertain step forward.

"Hello, Kurosaki Rukia," says Ichigo, and Rukia feels her heart stop in her chest because _this isn't Ichigo_. There is not a trace of warmth or kindness on his face. Only insanity. "I don't think we've ever met."

Beyond all logic, Sode no Shiroyuki appears in her hands.

"Who are you?" she asks, voice hard.

Not-Ichigo laughs a cold laugh, and beyond the determination of getting whatever the hell it is out of Ichigo, Rukia unintentionally remembers Shiba Kaien.

But that's ridiculous, Rukia tells herself. Ichigo's far too powerful to let himself be possessed by a Hollow. Not that Kaien wasn't, but – but this is _Ichigo_.

"You don't know me?" Not-Ichigo is smirking.

Rukia realizes she does.

"You are Ichigo's Hollow."

The Hollow laughs again, and it's tinged with so much madness that Rukia's fingers shake.

"Yes, yes I am," he says, and it takes all of Rukia's willpower not to take a step back for every step he takes towards her. "I can't believe it took this long for me to officially meet my wife."

"You do not call me that," says Rukia sharply, eyes narrowing at the Hollow wearing Ichigo's body. "I am not your _anything_. You will relinquish your hold on Ichigo at this instant because I promise you that I will not hesitate in causing you harm."

"So demanding, so confident," smiles the Hollow. He takes another step forward and touches the tip of Rukia's sword with his finger. "The other me feels so much for you, Rukia, do you know that? You are his _world_."

Rukia feels sick.

She knows that she shouldn't be getting affected like this – they were trained for this in the Academy, how their greatest obstacle in the face of such events is emotional compromise – but God, she feels sick.

And the Hollow sees it. It makes his mad smile wider and he trails Ichigo's finger along the sharp edge of her sword.

"It makes me want to rip you apart just to see what it would do to him," he tells her. "It makes me wish that I could somehow take control of you, make you inflict all the suffering I want to cause him and – oh." The Hollow tilts his head a little questioningly. "He's coming back."

Rukia doesn't let relief and fear show on her face. She doesn't let anything show.

"But don't worry, Rukia," the Hollow says. He doesn't look at her as he nicks his finger on the sword and smears the blood on the flat surface of the blade. "You'll see me again."

"I will not," says Rukia, and there's a confidence in her voice that belies the turmoil inside her. "Ichigo will know exactly what has happened, and we will _both_ make sure that you never come out again. Not unless you are under his control."

The Hollow laughs, a manic delight in his voice.

"You've got so much faith in him!" he says. "But there's much you don't know, Rukia."

"I know enough," says Rukia, but the Hollow isn't listening.

"Ichigo is indestructible when he's on his guard," he says, "but he lets everything fall when he's around you."

He chuckles.

"As long as you're here, I'll always be able to break through."

Rukia doesn't look away from the Hollow's white eyes, not even when she feels something crack inside of her. She keeps staring determinedly ahead even when, a blink later, dark brown irises appear and Ichigo's lips soften into a slight frown.

"Rukia?" he asks, looking at Sode no Shiroyuki and the blood flowing from his finger. He's confused, Rukia realizes, he doesn't know what happened. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

Rukia stays silent as she carefully lowers her sword on to the table beside her. She doesn't cry. She only takes a rag, soaks it in warm water, and cleans the blood off of his hands.

* * *

><p>Rukia doesn't regret telling him what happened. She accompanies Ichigo to see Urahara, to see various Vizards. She sits with him as he starts meditating in the early hours of the morning: he sits with his legs folded and eyes closed, and she is beside him, knees drawn to her chest as she watches the sunrise through the window.<p>

Ichigo doesn't reach for her hand anymore. When it is Rukia holding on to his, she can feel the stiffness of his fingers as they curl around hers. Sometimes he even pulls away.

He is still one of the best captains of the thirteen divisions, he is still good and kind and strong. But now there is a constant frown between Ichigo's eyebrows, the one that had existed back in his youth. His jaw is tense, his eyes fierce. When Rukia is around him, she no longer feels the calm, steady but considerable pulses that Ichigo has tamed his spiritual energy into. Instead she feels him unravelling, a nervous rhythm of power that's _just_being stopped from being unleashed.

Perhaps Rukia's feeling this because she's known him for so long. Perhaps their spiritual energies are more aware of the other because she can feel this change within Ichigo while others who are more powerful and aware cannot.

She, Ichigo, Renji, and Byakuya meet for tea at the main wing of the Kuchiki Manor a few weeks later. Byakuya and Renji exchange many looks throughout the visit, and Rukia thinks that they know, they must know that something is _wrong_with Ichigo. But later, when she speaks with Byakuya alone, he only says, "You are unhappy."

This is not the observation she wished for him to make and she is quick to deny it.

"I'm not–" she starts to say, and Byakuya holds up a hand to stop her.

"Troubled, then," he says. "You both are."

"Nii-sama." It sounds helpless and Rukia doesn't know what to say after that, so she doesn't continue. It's still an adjustment, her relationship with Byakuya; it's difficult to talk about something so personal in nature with someone who she respects and admires so greatly.

But Byakuya simply gestures the gardens outside the manor. It's very beautiful, the perfect balance of wild vines and trimmed flowers and small, flowing streams. His expression remains pensive and distant, but he says, "You are welcome to come here, whenever you wish. This is your home as well."

Rukia is touched, and her answering smile is soft. "Thank you."

Because she's grateful for him, more than he'll ever know.

Byakuya does ikebana, the art of arranging flowers, and Rukia thinks it suits him. It's elegant and beautiful, and requires a natural talent that cannot easily be learned. Rukia joins him that afternoon, and finds herself soothed by this task.

Rukia leaves the manor with Ichigo and feels calmer than she has in weeks.

"Ichigo," she says once they step out of the compound, "let's go out for dinner."

Ichigo looks at her, surprised. She stares back at him, eyes unwavering as she challengingly quirks an eyebrow. She knows how he feels and she doesn't expect his response to be a "yes"; but all the same, she is Kurosaki Rukia, and she doesn't take no for an answer.

"Well?"

Ichigo laughs in a way that he hasn't in a long time. Rukia has missed this laugh, and she feels joy bubbling inside of her, tinged with only a small curl of sadness.

"Why the hell not," he says, lips settling into a smirk.

Going out for dinner turns out to mean settling down on the stools of a small ramen stand in the third district of Rukongai. They talk like they're fifteen again, Ichigo stealing strips of beef from Rukia's noodles as she talks about the various dramas going on in her division.

"The new ones," she says, "are the worst. They're brilliant but care more about who's going with who to the Autumn Festival than the fact that they can be a seated officer in less than two years."

"Aw, come on." Ichigo takes a deep gulp of his sake and grins. "I bet if I were recruited at the same time as you, you'd be more interested in that stuff too."

"You wish, you freak." But of course, she is smiling.

Rukia is giddy as they walk home. There's a strange fluttering excitement in her stomach, something she remembers from the first time she kissed Ichigo. It's not something that ever fully goes away, but the _strength_ of it – she feels bold and nervous and confident and hesitant, all at the same time.

She shouldn't be like this. She and Ichigo have been together for – she doesn't even know. He's been in her life for so long, has made her _feel _for so long that it's a little strange to think about her life before him. She knows it existed, she remembers it, she understands that it's all a part of her history.

But that's exactly it – her life without Ichigo was _then_, and with Ichigo, her life is _now_ and _always_.

The house is dark when they get in, and Rukia places her hands on Ichigo's shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss. His hands are rough when they reach up to cradle her face, but that's okay because she's pretty sure hers are rough as well and–

"No," says Ichigo. Rukia doesn't even have a moment to respond before Ichigo's not there anymore. He's halfway to the other side of the room. "No, no, no."

Rukia blinks. "Ichigo–"

"No," says Ichigo, and he doesn't look away from her, but he does flex his fingers and puts effort into keeping his hands by his side.

Rukia purses her lips.

"Don't do this, Ichigo."

Ichigo is nothing if not stubborn.

"I have to," he says as he glares at her. "Rukia, you know–"

"I know why you're doing this," she interrupts. "You pull up a futon in another room when you think I'm asleep; there hasn't been a day in the last month where we spent more than an hour in each other's company. I know why you're doing _this_ right now, Ichigo, and that's why I'm telling you right now that you don't _have to_."

And she means it. Rukia knows that he's doing this to protect her, because he's Kurosaki Ichigo and he's fierce in his love for others, in his love for her. It's hurting him, and it's hurting her, yet somehow, inexplicably, she loves him all the more for it.

She understands Ichigo in a level that she doesn't even understand herself. She wishes she didn't, wishes she could be angry at him for being the way he has been for the last few months. But she can't, because she _understands_, and instead of anger, there's just an overwhelming grief.

Grief for Ichigo, who is standing there and looking at her with intense eyes and pursed lips. Looking at her like she's breaking his heart.

"Then what do you want me to do?" he asks, a voice tinged with anger that doesn't quite hide the weariness. "What should I do? Tell me, Rukia."

He closes his eyes. "You have to tell me because I have no fucking idea."

Rukia walks towards him, keeps walking until she is a foot away. She considers touching Ichigo's cheek, thinks about taking his hands.

She does neither.

Her voice is a little hoarse as she says, "In my life, I haven't made many bad decisions. If anything, I've helped people like you _avoid_ bad decisions."

Ichigo's lips twitch, and despite herself, Rukia smirks.

"It's something about me that I believe in," she says. "It's something about me that you believe in. So _believe me_ when I say that I trust you with my life–"

Humourless laughter escapes Ichigo's mouth.

"You shouldn't."

"I should," counters Rukia. Her eyes narrow. "You've saved me more than once. You – I know you, Ichigo. You would sooner die than stop anything from happening to me or anyone else in your life."

Her words do nothing ease the tension out of him.

"You're not safe with me." Ichigo's voice is steady, rational. He genuinely believes this, even when he laughs a little disbelievingly. "I guess I've always known this. No one is safe with–"

"Other than complete jackasses, there's not a single thing alive or dead that's not safe with you," says Rukia. "The Hollow–"

"That Hollow is a part of me, Rukia. How can you–"

And it's the way that Ichigo says it, as though it's a fate that he's long since accepted, that is the final straw for Rukia. Because there is absolutely no obstacle that Ichigo comes across that he can't overcome.

"It is _not_ a part of you," says Rukia firmly. "The Hollow represents everything that you could have been if you had let grief and insecurities and bloodlust overwhelm your soul. But you have _not_. Who I see in front of me right now–"

And now, finally, Rukia reaches forward and puts her hand on his arm.

"This is who you are. _This _is Ichigo."

"Rukia–"

"No," interrupts Rukia sharply. "You will not speak. You will listen to me because I am _right_. You know this. You are living a life that should not be imposed on anyone – your soul contains the pinnacle of darkness but that is not _you_. It is a possibility that came to be but it should never have. Do you understand me? The fate of your soul was taken into another hand, one that changed its very nature. The existence of your Hollow is not your fault. If anything, it is mine."

Ichigo's eyes are fixed on her. He looks at her with rapt attention, a little bit of wonder, a little bit of awe.

Only Ichigo looks at her like this. Like she is–

Like she is his world.

Rukia's throat is dry, but she continues.

"You have made the ultimate sacrifice for me," she says. "For the sake of my life you transcended the barrier between the living and the dead. You took part of a ritual that had every chance of turning you into a monster. You did all this willingly, and you did it for me. You went on a path that could have turned you completely into a Hollow, for the wisp of a chance of saving me."

She stops. She closes her eyes, tries to not think about the heavy beats of her heart. Tries not to think about the extent this man would go for her.

She can't speak. It's all too much.

But, as it turns out, she doesn't have to.

"You," says Ichigo, voice hoarse, "you gave me purpose. All the good that I've done, how strong I've become, any peace that I have – none of that would have happened if you hadn't jumped in through my window that night."

The tips of his fingers touch her face. He looks at her as though there is nothing else in existence.

"Anything I did for you, it wasn't a sacrifice. It was your _right_."

Rukia kisses him right then, holds his head in between her hands. She kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. They are impossibly close and trying to move even closer still; Rukia's hands are in Ichigo's hair, pulling him towards her, and Ichigo's fingers are gripping her hips, her waist, pulling her towards him.

It's not Ichigo who lets go first. When Rukia eases her mouth away, she sees that his eyes are still closed. Her hands are small, and they don't quite manage to cup his face, but her right hand gently rests against his left cheek as she looks up at him.

"You will get through this," she says firmly. "This will not be what breaks you and this will not be what breaks us. You will not only overcome this but you will _defeat _it because you are Kurosaki Ichigo and you do not know how to lose."

Ichigo doesn't say anything in response, but his eyes harden in determination. He doesn't need to say anything for Rukia to know that he's thinking, _no, this isn't going to be the thing that'll beat me_.

That night, Ichigo touches her in a way he hasn't for weeks. Rukia wakes up the next morning and sees his bare arms and shoulders peeking out from under the dark blue blankets. He's already awake, watching her with those dark, dark eyes.

"Hey," she says quietly. "Still you?"

It's the small smile on Ichigo's face, soft and somehow _happy_that convinces Rukia.

"Yeah," he replies. "Still me."

* * *

><p>Though this doesn't happen often, Rukia knows that when it does, it takes a surprising amount of effort to convince Ichigo of his goodness and self-worth. It's something that baffles her because though Rukia knows that Ichigo isn't the paragon of integrity and virtue, he is the closest that any soul has ever gotten to reaching it.<p>

However, once someone – and this is usually Rukia – manages to beat some sense into his head, Ichigo is head-strong and assured, and nothing can shake the determination that he holds.

The weeks in which Ichigo had withdrawn from her are a distant memory. There is no self-blame or guilt in Ichigo's gaze, just warmth and resolve. He holds her hand and runs his fingers through her hair and draws her into long, deep kisses.

He is not afraid.

Rukia is thankful. She doesn't think she can live in a world where Ichigo fears being near her. Perhaps she would have been alright, once upon a time, but not now, not when she knows what she can have with him.

Ichigo starts to paint. For therapeutic purposes, he explains when she finds the polished wooden brushes, cheeks tinting pink with embarrassment even as he glares at her defiantly. "Having a hobby like this is supposed to make your mind stronger. Because it soothes your soul or something. I don't know. _Stop laughing_."

Rukia obliges his demand, though she doesn't smother the large grin that has taken residence on her face.

"It doesn't count when you're still laughing inside your head," he grumbles, but there's no heat in his words. "Not that _you're_in any place to judge, you cartoon-character-ruiner."

Immediately, Rukia's expression turns affronted. "Excuse me?"

"I'm still scarred from looking at your last masterpiece. What was that, a mutant crossbreed between a rabbit and a monkey?"

"It was a cat, you jackass," says Rukia crossly, punching him on the arm. But then Ichigo takes her hand in his larger one and links their fingers together, and when he tugs, Rukia lets herself be pulled forward. "You better not suck at this painting thing."

Ichigo laughs.

"Rukia, who are you kidding? Of course I'm going to suck at it."

He's still chuckling as he reaches forward and tucks her bangs behind her ear. Something warm curls in Rukia's belly when she thinks that even now, months, years, decades of being together, Ichigo still pushes the locks of black away from her eyes. Her hair is longer now, reaching just past the middle of her back. It's a hassle to keep it loose so it's usually tied back into a bun, but the shorter strands constantly fall across her forehead.

She could grow them out, but she knows Ichigo loves it.

Right away it becomes clear that Ichigo doesn't succeed in painting portraits or landscapes. He simply doesn't have the patience to stay within the boundaries of reality. But he creates these beautiful pieces where the canvases are filled with blurs and streaks of colours. Somehow, though, they aren't messy. There is a certain theme to it.

Rukia's favourite one features various tones of purple, violet, blue, and black, with the occasional presence of white peeking from the edges. It reminds her of night, but it doesn't invoke an overwhelming sense of darkness in her. No, there's something soft about the painting, the way the different shades phase seamlessly into each other to leave something that makes her feel comforted. There's a certain mystery and wonder, but there's also warmth. Like being curled under a blanket with Ichigo's fingers stroking her arm.

"I thought you were supposed to draw happy things," says Rukia when she first sees him making it. He's sitting on the wooden floor, brushes and paints spread out in front of him. "You know, things like rainbows and sunshine and–" Rukia stops when she sees the look on Ichigo's face. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says with a grin, "I forgot who I was talking to. Kurosaki Ichigo doesn't _do_happy."

Ichigo rolls his eyes.

Rukia walks up to him, kneels down to rest her arms on his shoulders.

"Keep at it, Kurosaki," she says, pressing a kiss on the warm spot behind his ear. "It's about time you got a tasteful hobby."

She skips away before he can respond, but when she looks back, Ichigo's smiling. It's the barest quirk of lips, hardly noticeable, but it's enough for Rukia; enough for her to know that they are okay, and they always will be.

They just have to keep trying.

* * *

><p>They receive an invitation for dinner from Renji and his girlfriend.<p>

Their story is a sweet one, something out of a romance novel: Renji was out on the thirty-sixth district of Rukongai with a squadron of new recruits to take care of a minor Hollow disturbance; Yamazaki Megumi was also in the thirty-sixth district, carrying a basket full of embroidered clothes from her home to the market. Their paths intersected, a Hollow was destroyed, Megumi's clothes were saved, and the shinigami were harassed into eating a meal at Megumi's small home as a thank you.

And that, as they say, was that.

"You guys have to come, okay?" Renji had said, looking at them in complete seriousness. "I really – like _really_ – like her and she can't come to Seireitei 'cause she's not shinigami and she really wants to meet my friends and family and you _will say yes_, do you hear me, Rukia? Or some asses will be majorly kicked."

Rukia's not sure why Renji feels the need to threaten them into agreeing because Renji's her closest friend and of course she'll go, even if she does give him a hard time about it beforehand.

And it's this that has her and Ichigo in Rukongai. Its early summer, and the sun is out even though it's well into the evening. The thirty-sixth district isn't as extravagant as the first and second but neither is it consumed in poverty like the seventy-ninth and eightieth, like what Rukia remembers from her childhood.

They walk up the path to the small house, Rukia holding a package of steamed buns in her hands. They had picked up a gift on the way over at Rukia's insistence on propriety. Ichigo had rolled his eyes and muttered something like, "It's _Renji_," but Rukia thinks her glare was effective enough to stop him from elaborating further. Because true, it is just Renji, but it's still a formal invitation to his _girlfriend's home_and she can't live with the shame of showing up empty handed.

"I miss jeans," says Ichigo. Rukia misses them too, sometimes, but she doesn't complain as she has always thought that Ichigo looks the best in rich, earthly colours – something that the faded denim of his jeans can't properly capture. And true enough, Ichigo looks so good at that moment, fidgeting with the sleeves of his deep green kimono that Rukia ignores him in favour of thinking about the body underneath the loose fabric. "I never thought I'd have to wear one of these outside of meeting your family."

"Renji _is_ family," she says, reaching out and smoothing down the creases on his chest. "So your record is still intact."

Ichigo rolls his eyes and knocks on the door.

It's Renji who answers. Rukia throws the buns at him because she's Rukia and he's Renji, and she can't help but laugh as he fumbles with the package. Ichigo claps Renji on the shoulder as he steps inside, and grins when Renji grumbles, "Dunno how you put up with her. I'm already regretting this dinner and you have to _live_with that thing."

Rukia glares.

Renji smirks.

"Come on," he says, heading further inside the house. "Megumi's been tearin' the kitchen apart all day. You'd think that I said the guys from the eleventh were comin' or something."

"Good thing this one can eat for all of them combined," grinned Ichigo, ruffling Rukia's neatly pinned hair. Rukia glares and kicks his shin in response, but since her shoes are off, it doesn't have as much of an impact.

Rukia is trying to flatten her bangs when Megumi walks in to the room. She looks older than what Rukia expected. Perhaps closer to Byakuya's age than Rukia's own.

But age has always been relative in Soul Society, and Megumi could easily be younger than Rukia. She's tall, easily as tall as Ichigo, with her long black hair twisted into a braid; she's in a kimono so simple that even though Rukia isn't wearing anything extravagant, she feels overdressed in comparison.

The smile on Megumi's face when she sees them is warm, slowly unravelling on her face like clouds drifting away to reveal the brightness of the morning sun.

"Kurosaki Rukia-san, Kurosaki Ichigo-san," she says, giving a shallow bow. "Welcome."

Ichigo responds with a small smile, "Thank you for having us."

Unsurprisingly, Rukia finds Megumi to be wonderful. She's not particularly talkative, nor does she have a noticeable sense of humour, but Rukia thinks that's fine because between herself, Ichigo, and Renji, there's enough bolster to occupy a single room. Instead, Megumi is an attentive listener – and a fantastic cook – and makes jokes in such a matter-of-fact tone that it has Rukia bursting into laughter and choking on her food.

"I normally live here with my sister and her kids," says Megumi deep into the meal, when Rukia has gotten comfortable enough to laugh raucously and play with Ichigo's fingers under the table. "But they let me have the house tonight. They all love Renji."

She gives Renji a fond look as she says this, and the blatant manner in which she does reminds Rukia achingly of Ichigo. She's not sure why it hits her so hard, but it does, and is only snapped out of it when Ichigo says, "You didn't have to do that because of us. I – well, I don't come from a big family, but, you know. Family's important. I get that."

"Maybe they'll be here the next time you come and visit," smiles Megumi.

Rukia learns a lot about Megumi, the girl who's had Renji in a daze for weeks after they met. All the tasteful decorations around the house were made by Megumi herself, Renji tells them, by sewing together the left over fabric from the clothes that she makes to sell in the market. Megumi tells Ichigo and Rukia know that she admires them for being shinigami, and that she wishes she could see the inside of Seireitei one day, because the pure white buildings and structures are bound to be breathtaking.

"But I don't think that's something I can do any time soon," she says ruefully.

Rukia opens her mouth to say something about her brother, and how he married Hisana, but then she stops, because Renji isn't a Kuchiki, and more importantly, he's not Kuchiki _Byakuya_.

She's saved from having to speak because Ichigo looks at Megumi reassuringly and says, "Hey, maybe you will, one day. I'm notorious for breaking rules down there, you know. In fact – I don't know if you know this, but I broke into Seireitei once. Before I became a proper shinigami. True story."

Megumi laughs and Ichigo and Renji launch into – a thoroughly edited version of – the story.

Later, Rukia has a moment to talk with Renji alone. There's a lot that she wants to say, and she feels a little hesitant about it: she wasn't going to bring anything up at all if she hadn't liked Megumi as much as she does, and Rukia has always been honest with her friends.

Renji especially.

"This isn't going to be easy for you, Renji."

"Yeah, I know," replies Renji with a shrug of his shoulders though his expression quickly smoothes into a sombre one. "We don't see each other a lot. Pretty big commute, comin' from the main building in the sixth division to her house here."

"She can never be a full part of your life." She says this simply because she doesn't want to be harsh. But she wants her best friend to know what's in store for him, because Rukia knows better than anybody that you tend to forget important things when you're dizzy with love.

Renji just gives her a small smile.

"Haven't thought that far ahead yet." Rukia moves to speak, but Renji continues, "Just. Rukia, I really like her. I might love her, even. But did ya know everything about everything when you got together with Ichigo?"

Rukia is surprised.

"Renji, my relationship with Ichigo can't be a measuring point for anyone else's. Our circumstances were – unique, at best–"

Renji laughs.

"I know, and what I mean is–" He pauses, searching for the right words. "I don't know how this will turn out, if we'll last forever, if she's going to die before me or I'll die before her. I don't know if we'll get married or if we'll just stay like this but – Rukia."

Here his face softens, and he looks at her with a deep wisdom that she has always known he had.

"Megumi looks at me the way Ichigo looks at you. And if there's nothin' else that I'm sure about, I'm sure that I don't want to let something like that go."

Though it wasn't harsh to begin with, Rukia's expression softens at his words.

She clears her throat.

"Invite nii-sama here when you get the chance," she says, giving a hard slap on Renji's back. He yelps and glares at her, but Rukia grins unrepentantly. "He'll be instantly charmed. Megumi's the type of girl he respects. He might even invite the two of you to the manor."

"Yeah, you and Ichigo were the preliminary round. Kinda like a test before she met the Capt – Ow!"

Renji rubs the spot on his arm where Rukia had punched him.

"Freak, I was only kidding."

"Don't be such a wimp." Rukia smiles, and means it when she says, "You'll be alright."

* * *

><p>Rukia wakes up one morning to the sunlight falling on her eyes. She feels warm, content, and a drowsy smile spreads across her face when she feels Ichigo kissing the hard edges of her collarbones.<p>

"You sure know how a girl likes to be woken up," she says, closing her eyes. His knees are on either side of her hips, and he's leaning down, nose touching the curves of her cheek. She threads her fingers through the short strands of Ichigo's hair and pulls him closer, feels a little shiver of pleasure when he drags his tongue along the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Yeah," she murmurs, "just like that."

"You like this?" asks Ichigo, voice rough from sleep. Rukia giggles a little as his breath touches her ears.

"You know it."

She feels his smirk against her skin.

"'Course I do," he says. "You can't resist me."

Rukia laughs at that, partly because it's true, but mostly because it sounds a terrible one-liner.

"Getting a bit cocky there, Ichigo," she says, tugging his head back so she can see his face, "Too much talking and–"

And Rukia stops, her eyes widening as she meets the white gaze of Ichigo's Hollow.

"Not enough action?" The Hollow smiles and sweeps his thumb over Rukia's lower lip. It would be sweet if it was Ichigo, if over the last two seconds her blood hadn't turned cold from terror. "Why, Rukia, I thought you'd never ask."


	2. Part 2 and Epilogue

**Won't You Smile for Me Tonight  
><strong>

**Part 2**

* * *

><p>Throughout her life, Rukia has been faced with everything from poverty to loneliness to death. She has been faced with it, and she somehow managed to overcome all of it, whether by luck or chance or sheer determination. As such, there are very few things that frighten her.<p>

If she really had to decide, she'd say that her fears came down to three things: something ill-fated happening to Byakuya which she could do nothing to fix, drowning, and losing Ichigo.

So no, Rukia doesn't fear many things. But when the Hollow above her smiles a truly terrifying smile and pushes her bangs away from eyes and behind her ear so gently that she could almost – almost – mistake him for Ichigo, Rukia _screams_.

The Hollow's blank eyes widen to reveal an even greater expanse of white. But then his eyes clench shut and his hands leave her hips to press the heels of his palms against his temples.

"Fuck," he bites out and Rukia realizes that he's in pain. But it doesn't matter, not when he gasps out, "_Rukia_," a moment later, and his eyes snap open to reveal dark brown pupils, made even darker by horror.

It's Ichigo. It's Ichigo's who's looking her like he's not sure who she is and what she's doing there. His hands are clutching his head, but he's frozen, so still that not even his chest moves as he breathes.

But Rukia's breaths are coming out in heaves, her eyes roving over every aspect of Ichigo's face from his slightly parted mouth to the sharp cuts of his jaw to the hair that's brushing over the tips of his ears. It's Ichigo, and despite her thudding heart and the sweat that has gathered on her hairline, she reaches forward to cup his cheek, relieved that she has him back.

"Rukia," he says, moving to cover her hand with one of his own when suddenly, he flinches. A frantic look appears on his face and he scrambles to get himself untangled from the sheets. "Rukia. Get away from–"

A blink, and his eyes are white again.

But this time, Rukia's not afraid.

She's not sure why, exactly. Perhaps it comes from the fact that she knows the thing in front of her is not Ichigo and that she needs to get rid of it to get him back. The Hollow could hurt her, hurt Ichigo. And nothing can keep her from stopping whatever wants to cause Ichigo harm because the need to save him, protect him, is an ingrained part of her being.

She jumps off the bed and Sode no Shiroyuki materializes in her hands. And at the sight of her zanpakutou, a slow grin unravels on the Hollow's face.

"So that's how you want to do it, huh?"

He stands up from the bed, and immediately Rukia stance switches to a defensive one The Hollow doesn't pay her any mind, however, and instead stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders. Zangetsu appears a moment later, and the Hollow tosses it from hand to hand, as though testing its versatility.

Rukia suppresses a shiver. She knows that no matter how much she has improved, she will never be a match for Ichigo, never mind his–

"Come on then, Kurosaki Rukia," says the Hollow, smirking. "I've been itching for a good fight."

But that doesn't matter.

She's still going to fight.

"Don't–" Her throat constricts and she has to pause, but it doesn't last long. "Do _not_think that I will hesitate to attack you. Ichigo would rather I damage his body than let you have control."

The Hollow smiles widely.

"You're right," he says. "I can hear him, he wants you to stop me. But he knows you can't. He knows that you're not strong enough, he knows that you can't bring yourself to–"

Rukia stabs him in the arm.

The Hollow stops speaking when Zangetsu slips from his fingers and drops to the floor.

"I would never hurt Ichigo," she says. The Hollow watches as Rukia pulls out her sword out and holds it in front of her. "But you are not him."

And it's true. Rukia has gotten good at compartmentalizing. After everything with Shiba Kaien, she doesn't think she would have survived if she didn't learn how.

The Hollow watches his blood run down his arm. "He can feel the pain, you know."

Rukia swallows down the bitter taste on her tongue.

"I know."

Then there's a moment in time, where everything grinds to a halt, and the Hollow simply looks at Rukia.

And then he starts to laugh.

"You are _phenomenal_," he grins, leaning down to pick up his sword. "You never stop surprising me, Rukia. So strong. So determined. You're one of a kind. How did the other me ever manage to land you?"

And then he disappears from her sight for a fraction of a second, and before she can blink, the Hollow slams her against the wall, his fingers wrapping around her neck. Rukia's eyes widen as her hands instinctively reach for her neck. She's already struggling to breath.

"It makes me–" The Hollow leans in close, brushes his nose against the back of her ear. "It makes me want to destroy you."

Rukia chokes out some laughter. "You will _never_be able to destroy me."

The Hollow smiles in response.

"That sounds like a challenge."

_It's not_, she wants to say, but the Hollow tightens his grip on her neck. Rukia feels her windpipe narrow. _Way of destruction, number four_, she thinks instead, and through the dark spots that's starting to mar her vision, she reaches up and presses her index finger to the Hollow's temple, _byakurai_.

The Hollow doesn't even have the time to blink before he collapses to the ground.

"I've always been better at kidou," Rukia croaks out.

Lying unconscious on the ground, Rukia thinks that Ichigo is back. It's the only conclusion that she can have that explains her actions: why she's kneeling on the ground beside him, cradling his head on her lap as she absently runs a thumb over the singed skin beside his ear.

_Eyes are the windows to the soul_, Rukia thinks, and it's somehow fitting – in a way that makes her want to laugh hysterically – that the eyes are literally the only thing that helps her tell Ichigo and the Hollow apart.

It's only when he stirs that Rukia realizes that she didn't expect him to get back up.

"Ichigo," she says, disbelieving, before her mind kicks in and her heart rate picks up and– "Ichigo," she repeats, this time more frantically. "Ichigo, you have to wake up, you jackass, get up–"

Ichigo opens his eyes, and though he seems disoriented, Rukia's so relieved that she can almost cry.

In fact, she thinks she does.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and oh God, she hurt him, she _stabbed_ Ichigo, his arm is still bleeding and – and she sent _lightning_ into his brain he must be in _so much pain_– "I'm so–"

Rukia can't continue, so instead she surges forward and kisses him, bites his lower lip and runs her fingers through his hair. She feels the warmth seep into her skin through the cloth of her nightgown when Ichigo's hands find their place on her hips.

"I'm so sorry," she says again, breathless between kisses. She kisses his cheeks, his chin, his forehead and his eyes before finding his lips again. "I'm sorry but you know what, it'll be okay now, it'll be okay–"

And it will be, thinks Rukia, because she's strong and Ichigo's strong and there's no way that the Hollow could have survived such close contact with White Lightning and made it out alive.

But then a pained sound comes from Ichigo's throat and Rukia's being pushed away. She stares in distant confusion as Ichigo tries to get up and away from her, saying, "Rukia, bind me, get Byakuya, do something, quick–"

She stands up.

Ichigo's eyes are screwed shut in concentration, murmuring, "Rukia, Rukia, _Rukia_," and it takes all of a moment for Rukia to understand. She wishes she didn't, but Ichigo – she understands Ichigo.

She understands him, and this knowledge somehow calms whatever turmoil was inside of her just a moment before.

Rukia places a hand on his cheek.

His eyes snap open, and it's Ichigo. He looks as close to scared as she's ever seen him, pleading to her silently to fix it, fix _him_.

There's nothing to fix, she wants to say. It's not his fault. It's not her fault. It's – it's everything else, it's this impossible situation they're in – but it's not them. It's not their fault. Rukia can say this with every confidence because she knows him, she knows herself, and after decades of being together, Rukia knows that she understands _them_.

"Rukia," he says, and then he closes his eyes again. "Quickly – I can't – hurry, please, God, I'm so sorry, but I can't hold on–"

"It'll be okay," she promises. She will _make it_ okay, and Ichigo must hear some of the conviction in her voice because somehow, he manages to turn his mouth into the barest of smiles. "Way of binding, number sixty-one," says Rukia, "_rikujokoro_."

* * *

><p>Her brother won't let her see Ichigo.<p>

Byakuya sits in his office at the manor, looking at Rukia over a low table scattered with official papers waiting for his review. But he's not paying attention to them, his gaze focused solely on Rukia, who's kneeling in front of him on the opposite side of the desk. She's dressed in her uniform, Sode no Shiroyuki tucked neatly at her side.

She's not going to move until she gets what she wants.

"Nii-sama, I have never shown you anything but utmost respect, but this time. This time you _must_let me visit him. Keeping him isolated will only make him believe that he's done something wrong."

Ichigo is bound somewhere amongst the many secret rooms in the Kuchiki Manor. Byakuya administered the spells himself, both to constrain him and cloak his reiatsu. From what Rukia understands, Byakuya and Ichigo talked for a long time before Ichigo had passed out from sheer mental exhaustion, but Byakuya refuses to tell Rukia anything beyond the basics: that Ichigo had come to Byakuya voluntarily, and that physically, he will be fine.

But that's not good enough for Rukia, and Byakuya's seeming impartiality on the matter only fuels her frustration further.

"You must understand how important this is," she says, and right now, she's not pleading, she's not asking for his permission. She is telling him what needs to be done. "Nii-sama, you have given me everything, but this is one demand that I–"

Byakuya raises a hand to gesture to her to stop, and Rukia complies. He looks as tired as Rukia feels. "It is not about me, Rukia. It is about him. He does not wish to see you."

It's not the response she was hoping for, but it's a start.

"Of course he does not want to see me, but that is exactly why I must see him. I may not have talked to him for days, but I know how he is thinking. He is blaming himself for something that was not his fault, trapped by misplaced guilt–"

A noise escapes Byakuya's throat. It's not an undignified sound – if there's one thing Rukia's learned over the years, it's that Kuchiki Byakuya is the height of decorum and can make anything seem elegant – but it's not a composed one, either. Rukia is surprised enough to cut herself off.

"The guilt," he says, voice tight, "the guilt is not _misplaced_." His eyes are lingering at her neck, where the bruises have faded into a pale yellow. "I understand his position, but you cannot think for an instance that I do not agree with his decision."

"I understand what you are feeling, but that does not change my decision on the matter."

This is the most rebellion that Rukia has shown Byakuya in all the years she has known him. Not because she is a coward, but because she has simply never felt the need to. He wants what's best for her, she knows, and Rukia wants what's best for her as well.

And right now, what's best for her is to find Ichigo. Talk to him. Tell him that she's here, that it's okay.

"Ichigo is the most honourable man you know," she says. "You know what is happening, you know why it is happening – you _know_what the logical response is."

Byakuya looks away from her eyes for the first time. Rukia watches his gaze settle on one of the many small potted plants that tastefully line the windowsills, the green leaves shining almost white under the bright streams of sunlight.

And then he slowly says, "For many years before your wedding – perhaps even before the beginning of your romantic relationship – I have known that Kurosaki Ichigo would be the man you would one day marry."

Rukia understands why Byakuya is focusing his attention on the plant. Though he isn't looking at her, her gaze automatically lowers to her lap. From discomfort or awe or humility, she doesn't quite know. Her heart feels curiously heavy.

"And I have always been content with that fact," he continues, his long fingers lying still on the wooden table top. "I have failed you in many ways, but it gave me peace to know that he never would. You are right when you say that he is the most worthy person I know."

Rukia raises her eyes and just a moment later, Byakuya tilts his head towards her. Her breathing starts to feel shallower, and she has to blink away the wetness that has started to appear in her eyes.

"But despite this knowledge, I find that when it comes to you, I seldom act in a manner that most would consider rational."

"Nii-sama," she whispers, and now, blinking isn't enough. Rukia closes her eyes, takes a deep calming breath.

The Kuchikis don't do physical displays of affection or verbal confirmation of love. Certainly not Byakuya and Rukia, who are both reserved people by nature.

But now – Rukia doesn't hesitate in reaching out and resting her hand on top of Byakuya's own. She squeezes his fingers as a pale gesture of understanding and comfort, something she would never dare to in any other situation because he's her superior in every way.

"You are more than just my brother." Her voice is quiet but strong. "And even that, I do not know what I did to deserve. You are my hero. I would die for you, I would live for you, I would–" She chokes on her words, disbelieving the depth of the sincerity behind them. "I would not hesitate to kill for you. I love and care for you more than you can possibly imagine. You – you are the family I dreamt of as a child."

Byakuya holds her gaze. The sunlight makes his pupils look bright, like the reflection of stars on dark river water.

"But Ichigo." She takes a moment to think about him, about the man who runs his finger through her hair when they lie down to sleep, who calls her a "temperamental bitch" and "short little freak"; she thinks about Ichigo, who makes tea every evening and pulls her foot on his lap as he reads. "You must understand that I cannot – that I –"

So quietly that Rukia almost misses it, Byakuya whispers, "I would go against each and every soul in this afterlife to keep you from harm, physical or otherwise."

Rukia is hit with it, all of a sudden, this fierce love that she feels for her brother, one of the best people she knows.

"Nii-sama," she says, "take me to him."

Byakuya's fingers gently curl around her own. She suspects that if she just glanced up away from their entangled fingers to see his face, there would be turmoil in his eyes.

But–

"Very well," he says, "but I will be right outside that door."

* * *

><p>When Rukia finally sees Ichigo, he's sitting in a wooden room with no windows and torches lining the wall. There are beams of light surrounding his waist, locking him in the spot.<p>

She shuts the door behind her as she enters. He's mediating, sitting cross-legged and breathing deeply, and the air gets stuck in Rukia's throat.

"Hey," she says, as she walks up to him. Ichigo opens his eyes and gives her a small grin. He looks peaceful in a way that reminds her of that day, so many years ago: the two of them standing on an open field, the summer breeze ruffling her hair and the long blades of grass brushing against her ankle, and Ichigo, looking at her as though he wanted every happiness for her, wherever she might find it.

It's not what she expected. But she's never been more relieved to have been wrong.

His voice is quiet when he replies. "Hey."

Rukia kneels down in front of him so that their eyes are level, hands resting on her knees.

She wants to say that she's happy to see him, that she's happy to see that he's doing so well. There are so many things wrong right now, but she wants Ichigo to know that their relationship will never break no matter how much it strains. Whatever choice he makes, Rukia trusts him enough to support him implicitly.

"What are you doing here, Ichigo?" she asks instead because she is the type of woman who gets straight to the point. She understands his actions, she really does, she'd probably do the same herself – but that doesn't stop her from being angry.

It's the type of irrational anger that comes from fear and anxiety, the type that she can push aside if a desperate situation calls for it. But Ichigo looks fine, and that untangles the knot of tension within her, the one that tells her that Ichigo's well being comes first and foremost.

"Don't be mad," he says, and he has the audacity to say it in a joking tone. But, perhaps instigated by her glare, he adopts a more sombre demeanour as he continues, "You know what I'm doing."

Rukia purses her lips. "I want to hear you say it."

"I needed to take care of this before I can come home again," he says, confirming what Rukia already knew. "This went on for longer than it had to. I would've done this the first time if Urahara hadn't been such a secretive fucker–"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go inside and fight him," says Ichigo and his voice is so firm that the moment he says it, Rukia knows that even if she wanted to, she couldn't convince him otherwise. "It's never been done before, I don't know what that'll mean for me if a part of my soul gone – but I have to do this. I can't take the risk–"

He stops, closes his eyes and takes a long, calming breath. A frowns appears on his forehead.

"I can't risk hurting you again."

"Didn't it occur to you to talk to me about this?" she demands. "You – you _bastard_." There is no fear or anxiety this time. She is _pissed off_. "You know that I'd want to know about this. You know that I'd get it! I was messed up, you asshole, thinking you were going crazy and you were just sitting here! Meditating! _Meditating_! Did you even take a second to think about what I was going through?" Rukia can see Ichigo getting angrier with each word she says but she doesn't stop. "I want to _throttle you_."

"Hey," he snaps back, "do you think that I decided to come to Byakuya – your goddamn _brother_ – about something that wasn't freaking me out? Of course I know that you'd get it but this is something that you _shouldn't have to_. God, Rukia, I wasn't in control of my _body_ – do you know how that makes me feel? That my hands – _my hands_– were choking–"

"That wasn't you. That wasn't you more than it was me throwing white lightning–"

Ichigo quietly laughs, but there's nothing funny about it.

"I know that. But knowing it doesn't make it any better. It still happened and I was so damn angry, you have no idea, when I found out that there was a way to get rid of this and no one told me before. And can't you see? Can't you see why I had to do this? By myself, without telling you? I have too much shit going on and you were getting caught up in too and I wasn't–"

Rukia reaches forward and grabs his hand.

"I'm your _wife_," she says, squeezing his fingers tight. "I chose to become Kurosaki Rukia. And even if I kept my name as Kuchiki, even if we never got married – even if I simply stayed as _Rukia_– I'll always be your family."

Here, her voice sounds hoarser. "And family takes the shit that goes on in your life. That's what they're there for. Not to give you hugs and tell you that everything's going to be okay, but to be there, no matter what. You're _supposed_to let me help you shoulder your burdens–"

"Not this one," cuts in Ichigo. "Rukia, the only reason I survived this long is because you were there to kick my ass every time things got too much for me. But not this." Ichigo wets his dry lips, lips that Rukia hadn't realized were cracked until now. "This is something I can never let you near because you deserve–"

"If you say better," says Rukia, the breaths entering her body suddenly shallower and more frequent, "if you say something like _more_ or _better_ I'm going to punch you in the face, Kurosaki. You are everything, more than everything, you are the _best thing_–"

"Not yet," says Ichigo. "I _want _to be the best thing, and that's why I have to do this."

Rukia laughs shakily because – of course, of course Ichigo is the perfect paradox, displaying self-deprecation and self-determination in equal amounts. She doesn't know if there's a way that she can love and care for this man more than she does right then.

But there's so much more she has to tell him.

"You could die from this," she says, even though Ichigo hasn't said anything for her to state something so plainly. But from the way the corners of Ichigo's mouth tighten, she knows that she's right. "That's why no one wanted tell you about it. Because you could _die_. And that's exactly why you should have told me when you found out because you dying–" Just saying it makes her hurt, somewhere deep inside. "You dying is not an option."

Ichigo's thumb is moving absently along her knuckles.

"With what we do," he says, "fighting monsters to protect these souls who finally deserve some peace in the afterlife, dying–"

"Do _not _say that dying is always a risk," interrupts Rukia, and Ichigo's immediately stops talking. "This is not an ego boost, this is fact. You are Kurosaki Ichigo and there is nothing out there that can defeat you. Unless you can swear to me that that you will be coming back–"

"I wouldn't be doing this, any of this, if I didn't have a reason to come out of this in one piece." He's looking at her, right into her, and his voice is strong when he says, "I'll do this and I'll come back alive. I promise."

"You better be keeping that," she says, and she tugs him closer, kisses him on the lips. A satisfied sound escapes Ichigo's throat, as though he has been waiting for this. She's kneeling on his lap, his face tilted up and cradles between her hands. His palms travel up the backs of her thighs and travel across her arms and shoulder before finally settling n the dip of her waist.

It's just a kiss, it's _such _a kiss, a full bodied experience that Rukia's certain if Ichigo wasn't bound to the spot, it would progress to something more within the next two minutes.

But as it is, Ichigo _is_ bound to the spot and her brother is right outside. She pulls away reluctantly, and can't help but smirk when Ichigo groans.

"Oh come on," he says. "You can't do that."

"After this is done," she promises, "we'll take some time off, go to the living world. And once we're there, we won't leave the hotel room for an entire week. It'll be fantastic. In fact, it'll be so great that it'll make your birthday a few years back seem like holding hands on the beach. In daylight."

Ichigo glares. "Not helping."

"Only providing some incentive," she grins, but Ichigo must catch the sly edge to it because his eyes widen and he says, "I don't know why I put up with you. You're such a bitch."

Rukia laughs, and yes, the apprehension is still there, hanging ominously overhead, but there is a light feeling as well.

Its happiness and it's warming every part of her.

They kiss again, and it's long and deep and sweet. She can feel the way Ichigo's lips are forming into an instinctive smile. She's pretty sure that pulling away a few moments before was pointless because her hands are already trailing up the bare skin of his back and his are slipping under her hakama and teasing the fabric of her underwear.

Rukia can't get enough of him right then, and she's pretty sure that Ichigo feels the same, so it's startling when he suddenly stops and pushes her away.

Rukia lands on the ground with a _thump_. She stares at Ichigo in confusion, and feels like she just slammed into a wall when she sees that his eyes are screwed up in concentration, his hands clamping around his knees.

"You should go," he manages to say. "Go, Rukia. I'll see you soon."

Rukia takes a look at his white knuckles and nods. She stands up, smoothing her hair and fixing her clothes. She wants to do something like kiss his forehead before she leaves, but Ichigo doesn't want her to be near him right now, and underneath her turmoil of emotions, the logical part of Rukia agrees with his decision.

But her heart still thuds heavily in her chest as she says, "Good luck," and by the end of that night, over half of her home is frozen, broken, or covered in shards of ice.

* * *

><p>When it happens, Rukia literally feels it in the air.<p>

She's in the thirteenth Division's headquarters, taking care of a discrepancy with the paperwork about a mission in Rukongai that took place last week. She is just leaving the captain's office when there is an explosion of reiatsu, so overwhelming that it must be Ichigo's, knocking her to the ground and making it difficult for her to breathe.

It lasts for only a few minutes, and Rukia has her eyes closed the entire time. The heels of her palms are pressed against her ears, to try and stop it from bleeding because the spiritual pressure – it's too immense. It's crushing and twisting her organs, trying to compress her into a tiny ball and Rukia knows that the shinigami around her are feeling the same.

From beyond the walls her hands create, Rukia can hear them screaming.

But what's more terrifying is how little by little, the voices fade away.

Ichigo's spiritual presence is such ferocious raw energy that Rukia is certain that even the souls at the outer rings of Rukongai can feel its weight. It's impossible to breathe, impossible to move.

And then, as sudden as its appearance, the pressure vanishes.

Rukia vomits, her body not able to adjust so quickly to the shift in the environment's equilibrium. She's one of the lucky ones, still being aware. She can see many of the other souls lying unconscious on the courtyard, and there is an eerie silence all throughout Seireitei.

She may not know what was supposed to happen, no one does, but Rukia's certain that this wasn't it.

Rukia stands up, tries to flashstep to Kuchiki Manor but it's as though her reiatsu short circuited: she barely manages a few feet before collapsing, and even then she traveled north instead of her intended west. It's difficult for her to even think straight.

And she is cold. She is distantly aware of her heart beating rapidly trying to pump as much blood throughout her body as possible, but it's simply not reaching the tips of her fingers and toes.

But she has to get to Ichigo. It doesn't matter that her insides feel like slush and that she can barely stand up straight. Something isn't right with Ichigo, and Rukia has to get to him.

So she starts to walk. And she keeps walking, perhaps for hours.

There is a strange aura surrounding Kuchiki Manor. Rukia can't quite place what it is that feels so _off_, the stillness of the leaves or the distinct lack of chirping birds, but something's definitely there: a feeling of such utter wrongness that Rukia feels nausea sweeping through her once more.

"Nii-sama," she calls out in a scratchy voice, stepping into the polished wooden tiles of her brother's home and looking past the servants that lay unconscious on the floor. She doesn't need to see them right now, not when she is barely standing herself. "Ichigo. Nii-sama."

There is no answer.

But then again, it isn't like she was expecting one.

Whatever few details are available about what would happen today, Rukia knows better than she does her Kuchiki family history: every captain would be present, Ichigo would go into a trance of some sort and focus on getting to a plane within himself where both he and the Hollow can exist in relative corporeality, and then all that was left to do was for everyone to hope for the best possible outcome.

Perhaps it's being a bit too cautious, having the thirteen most powerful beings in Soul Society in one room. But Rukia knows that each and every shinigami is aware of Ichigo's massive spiritual strength, and when it comes to Kurosaki Ichigo, the world has learned that there's no such thing as too much preparation.

Rukia reaches the room where Ichigo has been staying at the moment Byakuya steps out, shutting the door shut behind him.

For the brief instance that there was an opening, when the door and the wall were two separate entities with space in between, Rukia had felt it. Not an overwhelming, all encompassing pressure, but a constant pulse of reiatsu that had vibrated through her body, lifting up the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.

But as soon as the door closes, the air becomes as still and dead as the air outside.

"You should not be here," says Byakuya. He idly wipes the tiny beads of sweat that has gathered at his hairline before looking at her with a crease between his eyebrows. "It is dangerous to be around him right now. He is not at a constant state."

"No, I had to be here. I felt it, a few hours ago." Her throat feels parched and Rukia has to take a moment and allow her saliva to moisten the passage. "What is happening to him?"

Byakuya looks as concerned as she has ever seen him. It's not something that would be noticeable to many: Rukia's almost certain that besides herself, only Renji and perhaps Ichigo can discern the tightness on the corners of his lips and the hard edge to his eyes.

"We are not sure. Urahara Kisuke was invited to the manor to supervise today's happenings, and though he has his theories, we will not know anything until he comes back. As it is, the other captains and I are rotating shifts to maintain a shield around him in order to contain his erratic reiatsu."

Rukia listens to his words, but only a specific phrase registers fully in her mind.

"Nii-sama," she asks urgently, "what do you mean when Ichigo comes _back_? What is wrong with him?"

Byakuya exhales the softest of sighs before looking to his right, where the entrance to the gardens lay beyond the wide expanse of the porch.

"He has previously discussed the logistics with you. Theoretically, his – I suppose the best word for this would be his consciousness – is no longer with us. He is somewhere within his own mind, his own soul – a paradox before today I would not have though possible as his corporeal form right now _is_his soul – but the instability he is experiencing is having an effect out here. We are not sure what caused the unravelling of all the seals that were put upon him, but – Rukia."

At the sound of her name, Rukia's attention snaps back to her brother, mortified that her focus had wandered from such an important discussion. She blinks, bringing Byakuya's form back into clarity.

"You are not well," he says, frowning as he places the back of his hand against her forehead. "Your body is overheated. You need rest and get rehydrated. Where are all the aides?"

"They are all unconscious," informs Rukia, and lets Byakuya ease her gently to the ground until he is kneeling in front of her and she's resting her back against the wall. "Ichigo's energy could be felt all the way to the outer fringes of Seireitei, and I am certain it went even further. It interfered with my normal reiatsu patterns and even the basic kidou spells are not working for me. I had to physically walk here – and."

Rukia closes her eyes, runs a shaky hand through her hair. "God, the other shinigami. Nii-sama, on my way here there were so many of them just lying there. Only about one in fifteen were standing and–"

She's having difficulty breathing. Byakuya's frown deepens.

"Do not concern yourself with matters outside of your control," he says, his voice so sure and strong that Rukia finds herself nodding, then tensions in her body relaxing almost immediately. "I will get some water and then you must lie down."

That sounds like a wonderful suggestion. Rukia can feel her body start to shut down, physical exhaustion combined with the unsettlement of her spiritual core. But then she remembers–

"No." She struggles to stand up. "I must be here when Ichigo is done. Or if something goes wrong–"

"You may rest near here," Byakuya allows, "but that is it. I give you my word that I will come to retrieve you the moment anything changes. Is that agreeable?"

Rukia swears that there is a hint of a smile on Byakuya's face. Perhaps she is more in need of respite than she had expected.

But it's as she's looking at him that she notices: the wetness of his hair, how a few drops of sweat are slowly sliding down the side of his face despite his lack of physical exertion over the last few minutes.

"Nii-sama," she says, worry sweeping through her as she realizes, "you were right next to him when it happened. You felt the full burnt of the release of energy."

"Do not concern yourself," he dismisses, and when Rukia opens her mouth to argue, he continues in a gentler tone, "I am fine, Rukia. All the captains were there as well and though we were affected, our combined presence made it easier to stabilize our centres and manifest the shield. Kurosaki may be unfathomably powerful, but he is still not the equivalent to twelve of Soul Society's finest."

Despite herself, Rukia smiles. "However much he might like to believe."

"Too true." He accompanies her to a bedroom a few feet away from Ichigo's room and stays until she finishes an apple and a glass of water.

It's not until later, when she's on the verge of unconsciousness, that Rukia realizes that Byakuya was trying to ease her mind and make her laugh. And though he answered everything she asked, he never once told her that Ichigo was doing alright, that he was going to be okay.

But then again, Kuchiki Byakuya was never one for lies.

* * *

><p>Rukia wakes up when she is hit with a second explosion of reiatsu. But this time, the pressure lasts for a fraction of a second. It's a singular pulse, muted and almost gentle, the energy passing through instead of surrounding her. She sits up with a gasp, her blood tingling in her fingers and heart beating erratically, even though the moment has already come and passed.<p>

And Rukia knows that it's over.

There is a tired smile on Ichigo's face when Rukia bursts into the windowless room. He is holding himself up with his zanpakutou, his feet are bare, his hair is unkempt and he is covered with dirt and sweat but – his eyes. Ichigo's eyes are warm and brown and beautiful, like rich soil after a rainfall or the bark of a darkwood tree at sundown.

She has always associated Ichigo with the earth, providing strength and stability, comfort and love, a presence so vast and overwhelming that she doesn't think she can ever truly get enough. And right now she _is_ overwhelmed, so much so that she can do nothing but stare, drinking in the sight of Ichigo who is exhausted but _alive_.

So alive, in fact, that he manages to shoot her a cocky grin and say, "Told you I'd come back."

Rukia lets out a choked laugh.

She takes one step forward, then another, and then as many more as she needs until she's close enough to wrap her arms around his wider frame and hold on tight. Normally, Rukia barely reaches his chest, but with Ichigo bent down and folding himself around her, her chin now rests on his shoulder.

His entire weight is leaning against her, and Rukia's not sure how she's managing to hold him up. She thinks it has little to do with her physical strength and more to do with the feel of Ichigo's warmth seeping into her skin and the feeling of his fingers pressing into her hair.

"You should say something," says Ichigo, lips moving against her neck. "Like tell me to stand up before I topple over and crush your tiny body."

"Can I tell you to shut the hell up and give me this for a second?"

Ichigo's reply was quiet. "Of course."

Eventually Rukia pulls away, doesn't look away from Ichigo's bright eyes as she runs her fingers all over his eyes and lips and forehead, checking for any damage. She's surprised but grateful to see that everything seems to be in working order.

"You're still in one piece," she says, gently pushing him until his back is against the wall. She mimics his movements as he slides down, shuffles in close and kisses him long and deep and sweet. Rukia feels weary and happy and hopeful all at once and she can feel that, combined with what happened earlier with Ichigo's reiatsu start to drain her once more. "Can't ask for anything more with someone like you."

"What can I say, I was made to live life on the edge of danger," says Ichigo and Rukia grins because it's true, no matter how she sometimes wishes otherwise. "Lucky the other captains left before you got here. Wouldn't want your brother to catch an eyeful of what we really get up to in our–"

"Quiet."

Ichigo laughs and it's a tired sound.

"You need to rest," says Rukia firmly, pushing the damp hair out of Ichigo's eyes and resting her hand against his cheek. "There's a room just down the hallway where I was just at."

"Or we can just stay here," suggests Ichigo, tilting his head back so that it's propped against the wall.

His eyes are drooping and he looks rumpled and soft, like he really needs to get into bed or he has just come out of it. Ichigo isn't one to often look vulnerable, but in this moment he is as open as Rukia has ever seen him, and it causes something inside of her to soften. "Or we can do that," she gently agrees.

And Ichigo falls asleep, just like that, sitting up and leaning against the wall with his arms still wrapped around Rukia who is sitting curled up on his lap. Rukia wonders how she got here, to this place, so in love and comforted by a singular presence that she feels no nervousness or anxiety being in such an intimate hold with another person.

She just feels the steady rhythm of her heart beating inside her ribcage, slightly out of step with Ichigo's.

It's not until later, after a day of bickering and fussing and secret smiles and kisses, when they are back in their home that Rukia sees that everything had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped.

Ichigo is just about to pull on a t-shirt, his arms already in the sleeves. It's an ancient thing with tears and holes and the colour faded from blue to gray. It's the first time that they're getting the opportunity to change out of their clothes, and it takes Rukia only a second to see the large mark on Ichigo's back.

"What happened here?" She frowns, reaching forward to gently touch the section of black and blue etched onto Ichigo's skin and Ichigo flinches away. It takes up almost half of his upper body, from just below his shoulder blades to the dip of his back.

Ichigo turns around to face her and Rukia sees that the bruise carries over to the front of his torso, covering his chest and abdomen. He takes off the shirt and looks just as surprised of its presence as Rukia is.

"I don't know," he says, craning his neck to look at his back and an instinctive urge rises within Rukia to tell Ichigo that he should stop being an idiot because no matter how hard he tries, he simply can't see back there. He turns back to his front. "Holy shit, this is huge."

Rukia's fingers press against his navel. "Does it hurt?"

"Ah." He winces, and Rukia pulls away. However, when Ichigo absently rubs circles on his stomach – at the spot where Rukia touched him, so she supposes it's to ease away the pain – she notices that it doesn't seem to be causing him any discomfort.

"I think it only hurts when someone else is in direct contact with it," muses Ichigo. "I was fine all day. Didn't feel a thing."

Frowning slightly, she says, "It's probably some kind of mark from defeating the Hollow. It _was _a part of your soul." Ichigo nods. "But we should still see someone tomorrow, just to make sure that everything's okay."

Ichigo must see some distress on her face because he says, "Hey, just cuz it looks badass doesn't mean it'll be bad. Remember how you freaked out over my tattoo? Now you can't get enough of it."

"Somehow, I don't think these two really compare."

But Ichigo's giving her a look, one that she can never say "no" to.

"Fine," she says, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I'll stop freaking out. But we're still going to a medic tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure," says Ichigo, nodding. "It'll be good to see the fourth division guys again. Haven't talked to them in weeks."

And because she refuses to let this new development bring her spirits down, Rukia grins at him and says, "It's been that long since your last life-threatening injury?"

"Hard to believe, right?"

"You never catch a break, do you?"

Ichigo laughs. Any tension that Rukia may have had remaining fades away.

"Not since I met you," agrees Ichigo.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>Ichigo's torso isn't the only place that has bruising. A full check-up at the fourth division revealed dark spots along his calves and thighs. But the medics assure that the residual energy present throughout Soul Society would start healing the gaps the Hollow left behind, and sure enough, as the weeks go by, the marks slowly fade away.<p>

Everything's not exactly the same as before: Ichigo has to eat more, and because most of his energy is being used to heal the rifts in his soul, he goes to sleep within hours of arriving home from work. But despite his tired eyes, Ichigo is much happier than he has been for months, and Rukia can't ask for anything more than that.

They decide to make true of Rukia's promise and head off to the living world for some time off. It comes down to a choice between Amsterdam and New York, and like most other dilemmas that rise between them, they settle it with a best-out-of-three game of rock-paper-scissors.

After so many years, Rukia still doesn't understand how she gets suckered into playing each time, when she knows by now that Ichigo _always_ wins. She suspects that he's cheating, but for the life of her she can't figure out _how_.

"It's because you always go with rock," he explains as they pack for New York. "I told this to you a ton of times, and you still don't change it up. I can't help it if you suck at this."

"How about I throw a rock at you and you try to block it with a piece of paper, hmm?" Rukia's grumbling under her breath. "This is such a stupid game. Why can't we solve our problems with something else? Like Go. I'll kick your ass in Go."

"That's exactly why we'll never make important decisions based on that game."

Rukia glares.

"Fine. But from here on out, we won't be making important decisions based on rock-paper-scissors, either."

The New York summer is hot and humid, with too much rain and too many people. But Rukia still has the most fantastic time there: its one more place in the world that she has now seen and experienced, with its busy nights and even busier days. She has seen the landmarks so famous that word of them have reached even Soul Society; she has bought countless souvenirs and beaded jewellery from street festivals that shut down entire blocks; but the best, most memorable part about this vacation? Spending most of it in bed with Ichigo.

True, it's something that they could have done just as easily at home. But there's something about being at a new place, in a lavish hotel room with room service just a phone call away with only each other for company that instigates a warm, lazy attitude in Rukia. She has no worries or responsibilities, nothing at all that she wants to focus on other than the man beside her.

"One of us should be better about this," says Rukia, closing her eyes and curling in closer to his body. "One of us should be making the other get off their ass."

"Mm, you're right," says Ichigo and playfully shoves Rukia's shoulder with one palm. "Go and make me some breakfast, woman. Can't have you lying around all day when there's so much work to be done."

"So much work," agrees Rukia, pressing her lips idly along Ichigo's jaw, the barest hint of his stubble scraping across her chin. "Where can we possibly start?"

"I've got a few ideas." Ichigo pulls her in so that her knees are on either side of his waist as he remains on his back on the bed. His hands run down her sides and he shoots her a devilish grin. "You can start whenever you want."

Rukia laughs, eyes closed and shoulders shaking.

"Making me do all the work, huh?" But she leans down and pulls him into a long, drawn kiss. "I guess I can take the pressure off of you for one day."

"Knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Her smile is pressed against his mouth.

It's more forceful than normal. They're both fighters in spirit, and there's something exciting and edgy and arousing about kisses with more teeth and tongue than lips. There are also Ichigo's hands which are gripping tightly at her hips, and Rukia's fingers, which are digging into Ichigo's shoulders, nails indenting the skin.

Ichigo rolls them over, and their lower bodies get further tangled between layers of sheets and blankets. It's perfect, thinks Rukia from somewhere in her hazy mind. She pulls almost harshly at his hair as he bites and sucks along the curve of her neck. It's perfect because she's in this complete world with Ichigo, with nothing taking up her thoughts beyond the heat that flares in her belly each time Ichigo's fingers flit over her skin.

They don't speak when they're like this. Because this – this is about letting everything out. Rukia knows that she and Ichigo are kindred souls, who feel deeply and immensely. These are feelings strong enough to tear them apart if kept under wraps for too long. Which is why it's perfect that they're both tough enough to take what the other wants to dish out.

After, when they finally get out of the hotel room, they go to Central Park for the afternoon. They don't bring anything with them beyond Rukia's purse and Ichigo's wallet. The Frisbee they end up throwing around with some of the kids was bought from a tacky cart situated right outside. It's not easy running around the grass in a skirt and sandals, but Rukia has fantastic reflexes, Gigai or not, and she receives every pass that comes her way.

For a late lunch, they buy themselves a couple of hot dogs from a cart. Rukia wanders off to find a place to sit and Ichigo soon settles down beside her. His arm automatically stretches out to rest on the back of the bench, behind her. It's a sunny day, and Rukia has her hair tied up, the warm sunlight falling across the back of her neck.

"This is the best damn hot dog I've had in my entire _life_," Ichigo says after the first bite. "We should buy a couple more to take back to the hotel. You know, for dinner."

"Ichigo, this is processed meat in a synthetic casing that we bought from a sidewalk." Rukia swallows her own mouthful. She grins. "Yeah, we totally should. Who needs the five-star salmon?"

Ichigo snorts.

"Those things wouldn't fill up an eight year old. And I mean a runty eight year old. Not one of those, twelve-year-old-looking-eight-year-olds. Cuz obviously that little piece of fish wouldn't be enough for them."

"You were one of those, weren't you?" She smiles, all teeth and joy.

"Nah, I was one of those tiny little suckers. Woulda gotten beat up if I wasn't already pummelling 'em to the ground."

Rukia laughs. "I knew you were trouble from the moment I saw you."

"Yeah, but come on, the first time you saw me I was kicking your ass. Of course you thought I was trouble, Tiny." He ruffles her hair to accentuate his statement, and Rukia half-heartedly tries to swipe his hand away.

She'd put in more effort, but the hot dog? It really was just that good.

A comfortable silence falls between then for the next few moments, and Rukia swings her legs as she eats and watches the path of a butterfly fluttering towards a bright dandelion.

The butterfly is vibrant, wings splashed with reds and blues. There are no insects in Soul Society. Rukia thinks about the differences between the creature in front of her and the inky black Hell's Butterflies that exist back home, and can't help but take a moment to appreciate the life around her, from the fresh green of the grass to the sound of cars and laughter in the background.

She feels herself be hit with a sudden bout of nostalgia.

Rukia has been dead since she was a small child, no memories of life outside of Soul Society. Even as a full-fledged shinigami in the living world, she has been living in the fringes, observing time and people pass her by. It wasn't until Ichigo that she actually got to experience what this world had to offer.

Ichigo, who is sitting beside her right now, with his hands stuffed in his pockets and looking contentedly at the sky.

She observes him for a while, the sharp cut of his jaw and the soft hair that curls around his ear. Rukia is so taken with him that she almost misses the quiet, "Hey," that comes out of his mouth.

Her lips automatically quirk up. "Speak a little softer, why don't you."

Ichigo shakes his head in amusement.

"I was just thinking," he says, melting further back against the bench, looking a warm, tousled mess, "that from here on out, it should be easy for us."

Rukia laughs.

"It should be," she agrees. "But probably won't be. I mean, when has it ever been easy for us?"

"Can't remember," admits Ichigo. "But it's still good to think about it. Else I'll lose it one day and end up in a psych ward."

"You're not too far from that, old man," says Rukia, and when Ichigo directs a long-suffering look to the heavens, she pats him on the arm. "But if it helps? I can promise you that _we're_going to be okay." She reaches for one of his hands and twines their fingers together. She holds their joined hands up. "Just like this. Stuck together till one of us finally has enough and wants out."

Ichigo's hold tightens around her fingers. "And when do you think that'll be?"

"We've got a pretty long time to find out." This time, she doesn't pull, and instead gently untangles their hands. But only so she can pull him down for a kiss. "But I don't think we should be getting worried, yet."

Ichigo laughs.

"No," he agrees, "all these years we've known each other – I don't think there was even one day when I didn't want you there with me. Going to school, fighting Hollows, getting married. Can't imagine it ever being anyone else."

A surge of warmth courses through Rukia, and she reaches for one of his arms and secures it around her shoulder. It's a small display of physical affection, but it's natural and comfortable and Rukia all but melts against Ichigo's side.

"Me too," she whispers into his ear.

Rukia has no regrets when she's with him. There are wistful thoughts of what can be and could have been, but on the forefront of her mind is the happiness in the now, and how that is worth everything that was given up to get to this point.

She can do this forever, just sit beside Ichigo and talk about nothing in the noise and everything in the silence. And yes, things may never be easy for them, but at this moment, she can't think of a single thing she wished that had been different.

**End**


End file.
